Neon Kink
by NoLogique
Summary: AU fic. Sex, drugs and rock and roll. The neon-soaked nights in Lowtown give way to secrets, sex, strange encounters, violence, and lust. The nights here are made of cigarettes, guitars, and miniskirts. Pull on your fishnets and your stilettos!


Sakura lifted her head from her pillow and heard the sound of the coffee maker gurgling in the next room. Urg; too bright. She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away from her window, where even the streams of rain pouring down the glass couldn't block out the morning light. Her hand trailed along the sheets, reaching for someone who wasn't there, because there was no man in her life right now, and she hadn't met anyone last night. Sitting up, she let her covers fall to her waist, and she quickly grabbed them back up. She had passed out last night with her door open, and she slept naked save for a pair of panties the same pink as her hair-- luckily no roommate was out in view; she was safe.

She reached forward and shut her door, and leaned against it, feeling groggy. It was the third week since she'd dropped out of college, the fourth day since she'd shaved most of her head. She was bald except for a shock of pink hair hanging down like she was in a commercial for a new wave band. She plugged in her nose rings and tried to feel underground. It wasn't working yet. The only thing that made her feel underground were the burn marks across her back, and she hated those.

Second month in this city, in this neighborhood, with its old, musty brick buildings, and its drug dealers, and its bohemians. Sometimes you couldn't tell them apart, whether the tall man lying against the alleyway was doing it because he was high or because it was a pose. Could be both, really.

Work slunk by as slowly as usual, with the heat of the kitchens strong against her back, where her scars swelled up and told her to get a new job, anywhere but in this tiny restaurant, where she didn't have to stand behind this tiny counter and feel the heat against her. She sometimes told people she'd shaved her head because her job made her sweat too much, but the shaving didn't help at all. On days when it was really bad, she would stand outside in the cold rain and smoke and smoke and smoke until she was a tiny grey cloud out back in the alley.

During the day, it rained most days than not, but in the night the clouds would sweep back as if scorched by the moonlight. The neon glowed out from the brickwork and the streets busied themselves with activity. Second month in this city and Sakura just stood outside the convenience store, smoking like a chimney, waiting for her friend to arrive. This night, however, he didn't, so she decided to go to his flat and find him.

"Naruto," she said, banging on the battered little door. "Open up. Jesus Christ."

There were a couple of crackheads in the dark corridor. Occasionally they looked up at her. Some of them were French; they stared at her and mattered, _Je pense me regarder une slut. _Fuck you, you assholes, she thought.

The door opened and Naruto let her in. He was shirtless and thin, smoking and drinking wine. He looked drawn and pale-- maybe he was sick. He wandered ahead into his kitchen and asked her if she wanted wine.

"Yeah, all right," she said, closing the door behind her. "You okay?"

"Did it stop raining?" He poured her a glass and handed it to her.

"I think I need another tattoo."

"Another one?"

"I don't-- Yeah, I think I do."

But she hated her reasons for it; she wasn't into bod mod for any aesthetic principles; that's what she hated. She just wanted to absorb herself into a feeling, into a look. She wanted to slam herself in, be underground as possible. She wanted to sit on a rain doorstep and smoke a cigarette and raise yellow boots out from long legs in tattered fishnet, from a miniskirt, and suddenly be crystallized: a punk version of Jane Birkin. Punk and mod at the same time. But her soul refused to let her feel that way.

"Sasuke been around?" she asked.

"Not recently." He looked around. "Should I get dressed? Are we going out?"

"I heard he's been hanging around your doorstep." She smirked. "You like him."

"Shush."

"Come on, I thought you were going to give your catchphrase. You're disappointing me."

"I didn't know I had a catchphrase."

"You liar." She was aware of the superficiality of their small talk and hated it. "Can we go?" She needed to be taken into the bath of music and darkness and colour; she couldn't stand these empty, dark flats. Naruto had no roommates, and these creaking old places weren't built for only one person. Naruto could stand there, but the rest of the flat would circle him, waiting to devour him.

"Let me get a shirt on at least," Naruto said.

Sasuke was sitting outside on the doorstep when they left. He stood up, a man almost made of shadow. He peered out of the darkness left on the step by the streetlights. He gave Naruto a predatory look that made Sakura uncomfortable.

"Knew you were coming out," Sasuke said.

Sasuke never smoked, never did any drugs, just drank exotic liquers. But he was something dangerous, something coiled and tensed up, something chtonic and inhuman. When he moved about, the light always found a way to flee his face, leaving his expressions darkened and vague.

"New rings?" he asked, pointing to his nose, but meaning Sakura's.

"I'm trying to make myself as ugly as possible," Sakura replied, trying to make a joke but realizing she was telling the truth.

Sasuke laughed, and they left and went to a small dark club where a band was playing something loud on three guitars.

Afterwards, when Naruto and Sakura went out onto the streets for fresh air, he said, "I might be getting a roommate."

"No shit. Who?"

"Her name's Hinata. Kid from the hometown. She's a singer, apparently."

"Half the waitresses around here are singers."

He smirked at that, but didn't say anything else, which made Sakura suspect this chick might actually _be_ a singer. "Well," she said. "You need someone to pay half that rent anyways, right?"

"She'd be better than _your_ roommates, at least," he said in a distracted voice.

"Jesus." She tried to laugh at that. "Well. Anyone would be better than _my_ roommates."

"One day maybe we'll get out of this place."

"Don't be silly. I love this neighborhood," she lied.

Sasuke emerged from the club, glanced at Naruto with his dark eyes and slid over. His fingers found the back of Naruto's neck, and Naruto shut his eyes.

"Should I leave you two fuckers alone?" Sakura asked.

Naruto grinned and stuffed a cigarette between his lips. He lit it, and moaned softly.

XXXX

For once the rain stopped during the day and sunlight peeked through. Water glistened on the side of the office building, and Hinata knew it was shimmering. She stepped out through the revolving doors out onto the street, knowing she was surrounded by large tall shining office buildings. She knew without looking there would be a sparkling wonderful car parked alongside, something gorgeous and so far out of her price range it would transform itself into something godlike in her eyes.

She had asked the secretary if Sai was in, if the board meeting was over. It was and Sai was outside somewhere. She saw his car, something sleek and dark, something she knew he hated because it was something representing his father.

Sai was not in the car. He was sitting on the hood, looking up at the sky. He looked the immaculate salaryman, and she felt a spark of electricity, knowing how incongruate they looked, he the businessman and she, with her short artist bob-cut, and her second-hand clothing. Like Molly Shannon, she thought. She had hated Sai for a moment, making her go in and talk to the secretary like that -- he knew how shy she was -- but seeing him here let all the anger drift away.

"Darling," she said, "did the meeting get out early?"

"No, it got out _on time_." He smiled at her. "They usually run late, so I told you to come later. I thought you were shopping."

"I got bored."

"Shall we go?"

She told him to hold up; he could _kiss_ her first before leaping off. He did, and she smiled her way through it.

On the way, however, she could tell he was distracted, taking turns and stopping and making his signals with a distant look on his face. By the time he pulled into Lowtown he came out with it: "I still don't feel good about this."

She'd been expecting this. "I know."

"She should be living with me."

"And I will be." She flickered her engagement ring -- _their _engagement ring -- at him.

"But you need your space now."

"Yeah." She was silent for a moment. She hated talking about this -- even she felt childish about it. She wanted to surround herself with bohemia, surround herself with something conducive to artistry -- she was a musician, she wanted to pursue that. But it all felt so sophomoric, like she was pursuing a fantasy. "I'll be _fine_," she said.

"I'm not worried about that," he said, smiling at her. "You're a big girl, you can take care of yourself, but--"

"But-?"

"If you can't live with me now, are you going to be able to live with me after the wedding?"

That was a good question. "Of course I will," she said, knowing she wasn't really answering his question.


End file.
